Learning to Play the Lyra
by AcreuBall
Summary: After the fiasco leading to the split between her and Vinyl, Octavia is invited to stay with an old ex of hers in Ponyville. Begrudgingly, she accepts. There's always been something... off about Lyra, though Octavia could never tell. Now, caught between bad press and an eccentric ex, she's about to understand just what makes this mare so... strange.
1. Chapter 1

_I am taking over this fic from a previous author, with her permission. This chapter as well as the next on are by Lynked—she's on FFN, but this story isn't; can be found on fimfic though. The blog post where it shows I got permission to continue this fic can be found by going fimfic dot net slash blog slash 125319 slash an-actually-important-blog-post. (Sorry_—_this site hates links)_

_Chapter 1, written by Lynked_

Octavia enjoyed the rattle of the bench as it shook beneath her. Another train was passing by on the platform behind her, rumbling the ground with its locomotion. It was about time she had some time to herself, even if it was raining. And cold. And she was wet. And cold again. But despite it, she was alone in somewhat peace and quiet, if the rumble of the train could be ignored. At least there wasn't a crowd.

She huffed, brushing a black lock of mane from her face and settling into the bench a bit more, thankful for the overhang that was deflecting the downpour. Celestia knew why the pegasi had scheduled it for today, but it had soaked her luggage, and that alone was enough to ruin her day.

Now her train was late. The clock on the station platform was ticking away steadily, its hands locked on eleven now. Lamps shone through the dark, illuminating the soaking tracks, the sparkling tile platform, and the ever obnoxious news vendor at the end of the station. Her pink eyes drifted to him, his dry stall, his little treats for the foals, and of course, his newspapers.

Her face was plastered on yet another one. Of course it was.

She breathed in and sighed heavily, standing up and giving her best attempt to wring the water from her mane, before trotting over to him. His stall was a bit warmer, thanks to the candles he had on either side, illuminating the glass casing in front which the newspapers were protected. Bending down, she inspected one, its large picture of her face, an expression of distaste and anger on it as she glared back at a peculiar mare, whose spiked mane and musical flank would tell any and all that she was none other than Vinyl Scratch.

In huge bold letters the paper advertised: Biggest breakup of the musical century: Octavia and Vinyl play their final crescendos.

Her lips curled into a snarl, but soon fell to a limp frown. She looked up to the salescolt, whose lips mocked hers with a smile. "How much for a paper?" she asked.

"Two bits, all things considered," he said. Octavia eyed him over, frowning at his knowing smile. From her coin purse she pulled two shiny bits, tossed them on the table, and took the paper from him as he collected his money. She made her way to the bench, sitting down with a grunt and pulling the paper high. Might as well see what the paper has to say about it, she mused.

Octavia Philiharmonica and DJ Vinyl Scratch are possibly the most reknown couple in Canterlot. Their drinking sprees and music collabs, as well as their connection to their fans, have made them a favorite. But when Octavia's drinking took a turn for the worse—

"I only had a few glasses of red wine," she muttered, squinting to read the text. "With dinner."

—it became clear that things would go south. She and Vinyl began arguing over music rights-Equestria Inquirer spoke to Pone-3 Records—and the music collaborations—

"Abominations."

—ceased. According to Pone-3's agent, Vinyl has kept all the rights to her songs, leaving Octavia reliant on her old works. But when, in a spree of anger, she crushed her cello, the pride instrument of the most famous musical mare of Canterlot, it crushed a lot more than a few strings and wood.

"Uncouth," she growled. "I thought papers were meant to have some sort of moral standing..."

It crushed her career. Word has it nopony will hire the mare, and she's fleeing to Ponyville to escape the bad press. Also, according to Vinyl, Octavia "smells like stale rosin."

"That is a downright lie!" She slammed the paper down, then wadded it up and tossed it onto the tracks. As if by fate, the next train rumbled into the station, screeching along the tracks as it ground to a halt. The paper was now oblivion, as it should be. Octavia tilted her nose high and huffed, slinging her suitcase across her back in remembrance of her now non-existent cello.

A mustached stallion stepped out from one of the cars, looking to her, and the other few passengers who were also relocating to the middle of nowhere in the forsaken hour of the night. He smiled to them all a friendly smile and said, "Eleven o'clock to Ponyville. Tickets please."

Octavia whipped out a ticket from her luggage, and the stallion took it in his magic. After making a small tear on its corner, he slid it back in her pocket, and stepped aside to let her aboard the train. She stepped on, a small smile creeping upon her face as a blast of warm air hit her through the doors. Even better, it was quieter aboard the train than it was the station. Every seat was empty, letting in unabated orange light. She took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth for a moment, before beginning down the rows to the midsection of the car. After slinging her luggage into an overhead compartment, she tucked herself into a seat and reclined.

It was, after all, a long night.

And tomorrow would be longer, she thought as she stared idly out the window. Ponyville was like hot against cold when compared to Canterlot, and it was certain a place that a pony such as herself would never go voluntarily.

The newspaper flashed in her mind again. She shuddered; voluntary was out of the question. If anything, this was her luck at its peak—not very high, of course—and she'd be a fool to ignore it. Besides, getting out of Canterlot for a little while would be good for her complexion and health, right? Of course it would.

It was all thanks to her long time... friend. As the train jerked to life, the conductor shouting his final warning to absolutely nopony at all, Octavia's mind wandered to her bag, where somewhere deep inside was a letter signed with a little hoof-drawn lyre.

* * *

><p>Light. It was flittering in through the curtains, bouncing along the walls of the car and into Octavia's head. She sat up and groaned, passing a quick, painful glance through the window; she'd slept all night. Sitting up, she arched her back and nearly yelped, easing up instantly. The ride left her sorer than she would've expected.<p>

Wait. She turned to the window again, finding herself looking down upon a town from the cliffside. Ponyville, covered in the sun's morning rays, sat quiet and quaint, waiting for her. Simple houses with simple gardens along simple streets simply watched her simply staring. This was her destination.

The light of day was sucked away as the train slipped through a tunnel, leaving her in momentary darkness, before blinding her again. She waved her hooves furiously in an attempt to shut the curtains, falling into the aisle as she did so. It took at least a good minute for her to blink out the whiteness and stand to her hooves again.

Soon enough, the train was grinding on its wheels. Octavia made quick work of her luggage, pulling it down and slinging it across her back, then looked to the doors. Through the window she saw the train ease into the station without strain. Many ponies were here waiting, possibly to get on, though perhaps one or two would meet the few ponies who'd taken the trip with Octavia.

She, however, didn't see the mare she needed to meet. Amongst the sea of ponies there was no mint unicorn bouncing in place, as she'd expected. The doors slid apart with a hiss, letting the warm morning air flush into the cabin. Octavia breathed it in, treasuring the last bit of silence she'd have for a while. Then, she stepped out, into the sun, and through the ponies.

Quickly she went through the crowd, working her way between them as they all pushed against her to shuffle into the car. Eventually there was a staircase, and she soon found herself on solid, unshifting ground once more. Still no mint unicorn to steal the show. She sneered and huffed, and her belly rumbled in agreement.

This was no Canterlot, that was certain. No paved roads, they were all dirt. No sidewalks, because there were no carriages. The houses were all wood and thatch, and there was a faint smell of warm bread in the wind. That meant, of course, no audience, no parlours, no lounges, no restaurants, no nobles... nothing of importance. She swallowed and eyed the boring town over with an idle gaze.

Perhaps they banged sticks together for music, too.

"Well," she muttered to herself as her eyes wandered around the town. "At least it's quiet."

And it was. Ponyville was... quiet. Simple and quiet, Octavia thought, with a root in rurality that made it almost innocent. The ponies here carried on with their days with smiles, chatting quietly to themselves, enjoying the quiet. Octavia let herself smile. Quiet would be good for her, especially since—

"Tavi!"

Her heart leapt and she scattered away, kicking up dirt with her hooves. Just behind her were a pair of sparkling amber eyes and a gleeful smile. Two firm hooves pressed against her cheeks and spun her around, bringing her face to face with Lyra, who then gave her a peck on the cheek and hugged her so tightly.

"Um, hello Lyra," Octavia managed through the grasp.

"Tavi! By Celestia, I haven't seen you in, what, a few years! It's great that you took my invitation, we've so much to catch up on, and—" She paused to bury her nose deep into Octavia's mane.

Octavia chuckled weakly. "Um, Lyra, what are you—"

"You smell strange."

Octavia blinked. "W-what?"

"Like..." Lyra hummed. "Stale rosin."

Octavia twitched. "Get off, if you please."

"Okay!" Lyra released, backed up, and smiled wildy. "So, you must be hungry? I got some cake at home, and we can get some ice cream later if you want. Ooh, and you have to try the Apple Family cider. It's top notch stuff." She giggled.

Top notch. Visions of swirling red wine aged a century or so flashed in Octavia's mind.

Cider: dirt in a cup.

"Right... can we please go... home?" The luggage on her back was beginning to weigh down on her sore spots, forcing her to shift on her hooves unsteadily.

Lyra gasped. "Of course! Let me take that from ya, looks heavy." She gently lifted it from Octavia with her magic. "C'mon, my house is awesome. It's tucked away in the niche over there. Well, you can't see it from here, because of the station, but you know. Follow me."

Without protest, but with a deep sigh, Octavia followed Lyra as they crossed the tracks. The train's churning and huffing was soon left in the distance as they made their way down an empty street, then turned a corner. A peculiar building here caught Octavia's eye; it looked like a cake. A big cake. Standing in the center of a large circular clearing was a cake.

"These ponies..."

"That's Sugarcube Corner," Lyra remarked. "Best cakes in Equestria. It's where I got yours."

Eloquent as she was, Octavia offered a smile to Lyra, who was scanning her face for approval. "That's... sweet, but you didn't have to go through the trouble."

"Hah! Nonsense, when a good friend comes into town, it's always my thing to do something for them. Besides, after what you've gone through, I thought you could use something sweet. Y'know, now that you're single. And alone. And single." Lyra turned away, presumably to smile to herself.

Octavia squinted, but strayed the conversation. "So then, your house. It's... where?"

"Right off this road, down here." They turned down a street. "See that one? That one right there? Yeah, that one's mine. I know, she's a beauty."

It wasn't much, Octavia noted. Just a straw thatch roof, two stories, a few windows and a balcony, but she'd never say anything to her hostess. Besides, it did look cozy, when she looked at it in a certain light. "It's nice," she said.

"Yeah, but wait 'til you see the inside. Or don't, actually, just come in." Lyra pushed the door open, and ushered Octavia in with a quick slap to her haunch.

Struggling to keep her cheeks from flushing, she swallowed and stepped in. "Thank you. I admit, it's rather homey here," she said, looking over the room. In total, there was perhaps four pieces of furniture. A couch, two side tables, and a coffee table. A staircase cut up the back, and there was a doorway to what she presumed was the kitchen.

Which all meant this house was about as small as her Canterlot home's dining room.

"So... have a seat, make yourself at home," Lyra said with a wink, shutting the door behind her. Octavia was more than happy to oblige, drifting to and falling down on the soft, inviting couch. A thump from beside her was her luggage, she guessed, and she heard hoofsteps click into the kitchen as Lyra disappeared. Now, Octavia was alone. Finally.

With tenderness she rubbed her head, easing out an oncoming headache. The couch was softer than it seemed, parting for her aching back to sink deep into. Quiet was all around her. The house truly did have a nice, simplistic touch. A sigh slipped her lips as they eased into a smile. Eyes closed and breaths slow and steady, she enjoyed the warmth of the home she'd be staying in for her visit.

And Lyra was surely mature enough to not take things the wrong way, right? They were friends now, though perhaps Octavia could have stayed in contact more with her. It was rather uncouth of her to just leave. All in all, though, Lyra seemed happy to see her, and that was good.

For the first time in months, she felt truly relaxed.

"Octavia~!"

She jerked, snapping her head to the kitchen archway. The small hum of magic invaded her ears as a large, deliciously decorated cake floated out in a veil of green. Lyra followed in suite, a smile plastered on her face.

"Alright, so here's the cake I said I got. See? Pink frosting, just like your bowtie, which is somewhere, right? I know you never leave it," she rambled as she walked. "I bet it's in your suitcase. So pink it was, and then I got this neat little topper for you that—"

Her eyes were focused intently on Octavia, who sank back a little. Of course, that could only mean one thing, and Octavia was well aware. "Lyra, perhaps you should—"

"Which is totally awesome," she continued, stepping out of the kitchen. "I mean, when I found out that Sugarcube Corner actually had it, I almost flipped, I swear. And then that they could make this cake so soon, I mean—"

"Lyra, dear, eyes on your—"

"And I almost cried I was so excited. It's been forever, and when you just left, I was so sad, so now that you're here we can—"

Splat.

Her hooves fumbled over themselves and the cake hit the floor. Icing splashed into Lyra's mane, and her eyes went wide. She seemed to be frozen, a statue of icing and cake.

It was quiet. A distant thrum echoed in Octavia's ear to the beat of her heart. She watched, intently, waiting for Lyra to move. Nothing happened, not even the twitch of an eye. She simply sat there, frozen, mouth agape and eyes wide, staring at the pastry-caked floor.

Then, one, lone tear crept down Lyra's cheek, in agony for the lost cake. It trickled down, hung on her chin, then dripped to the floor to morph with the late buttercream delicacy.

Octavia closed her eyes and conked her hoof to her face. "Oh dear Celestia."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2, written by Lynked_

Well, at least the cake was clean. Moonlight was just beginning to prevail over the dimming sun, shining a strange veil of purple through the white shades. Again, it was quiet, and Octavia found time to relax again. The cake was gone, and Lyra had settled down. After a good dinner of strange take-out hay soup from the local bistro—though it was quite delicious—Lyra had left Octavia for means of a shower.

She could hear the splashing water from upstairs. The drone was nice, bringing a smile to her lips. Content with the newfound relaxation, she stood with ease, stretching without soreness. The house was cozy, she thought again, lit by dim candles and warmed by a hearth behind the couch.

"Mmm, perhaps a shower would do me well too," she mumbled, her voice morphing into a yawn. Lyra had said something about some wine tonight, so a shower would give them both some time to themselves. "And I do not smell like rosin."

A rap came from the door, kicking a jump through Octavia's heart. She swallowed dryly, glaring at the door, scowling, berating it for ruining her relaxation. The knock came again, a bit louder now. Tentatively she moved towards the door. Should she answer it? Possibly, yes—it would be rude to let those outside sit there with no answer while a candle lit the house. And, she mused, if they wanted Lyra, she could just explain the situation.

Reaching out, she slipped her hoof through the handle and pulled the door ajar to greet the cold air. "Yes?"

She had to squint to see, but soon she found herself face to face with a mare of stark white, with a red-pink mane and light green eyes that reflected the candlelight. "Um, hi. Is Lyra…"

"Oh yes, she's in the shower right now," Octavia said, offering a smile. "Might I take a message for her?"

This mare shifted on her hooves, and for the first time, Octavia noticed a parcel on her back. "Yes, you see, she ordered something the other day. Just here to deliver." She chuckled weakly. "So, um, should I just come back later?"

"What? Nonesense." Octavia outstretched a hoof. "I'll deliver it and send your regards, miss…?"

"Rose. Roseluck."

Octavia blinked. "Rose Roseluck? That's a rather interesting name."

Chuckling again, Roseluck chiseled a smile. "N-no, just Roseluck. And I'll just come back later, if that's alright."

"But why bother?" Octavia asked, cocking her head. "I'll just give her the package, and I'll not open it, you have my solemn vow."

A silence was shared as they locked eyes.

Then, Roseluck reached behind her and carefully, slowly, cautiously handed off the parcel. "Tell her it's an… extra lovely batch, won't you?"

"Absolutely, Miss Roseluck," she said with a wink. "Have a lovely night."

Roseluck seemed to stifle a cough. "W-will do."

She then turned to leave, and Octavia shut the door. Now in her hoof was a little brown parcel, gently wrapped and soft. Eyeing it over, she set it on the coffee table. It smelled like… roses. Which made sense, of course; what else would somepony order from a mare named Roseluck? Coffee?

She chuckled at her own witticism; a mare of her caliber could be a comedian, if she weren't so dignified.

"Hey Tavi," Lyra said as she descended down the stairs with a towel wrapped tightly around her mane. "Who was that?"

Octavia looked up at her. She'd not heard the water die, and the sudden burst sent another jump to her heart. "Oh my Lyra," she said, sitting down and rubbing her chest. "Gave me a scare. This was something delivered by somepony named Roseluck. Though why she would deliver at such an ungodly hour is beyond me."

Lyra stepped forward, cocked her head, and inspected the package.

"She wanted me to tell you that it is an extra lovely batch, though I'm not sure what it even is," she continued, standing again.

It took only seconds of prodding before Lyra snatched it up with her magic. "I-it's nothing. You know, um… stuff."

"Well I'm sure it is stuff," Octavia said with an arched brow. "But what kind of stuff could a mare conceive would be important enough to deliver at a time normally reserved for sleep? Honestly, what is in this, if you don't mind my asking?"

Lyra shrugged and gave a wide smile. "Stuffy stuff. Yep. I'll just go put it in my stuff drawer. Y'know. In the stuff room. For stuff."

"You have a 'stuff' room?"

"Yep! It's where I keep my stuff!" Smiling still—perhaps too broadly—Lyra spun and cantered into the kitchen.

Octavia outstretched a hoof. "Um, Lyra, wait! Might I use your shower?"

"Sure!" she called back. "Just stay outta my stuff room please!"

Two stuff rooms? Strange, considering that Lyra only had enough stuff for one, or hardly that, when her houses' simplicity was brought into question. Though maybe she—

Stuff rooms? Octavia shook her head. What in Equestria was a stuff room? It was a room for… stuff, obviously, but Lyra didn't even have a 'stuff room'. She had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and two bathrooms.

That all fit into Octavia's wardrobe.

It was… Lyra. Lyra being Lyra, that's what it was. She sighed and turned to the stairs, dragging herself towards them, up them, and then to the shower.

* * *

><p>Finally dry, and more to the point, at ease, Octavia stepped out of the bathroom with a smile on her face. Down Lyra's hall she went, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where the cool tile felt fine on her hooves. She greeted Lyra with a smile, who was just across an island in the center of the room. Lyra returned the smile as she yanked out another bottle of amber liquid from a rack, then shook her head and put it back.<p>

"Wine?"

"Yep," Lyra said, "A special kind. I think you'll like it. It's pretty sweet."

"Hmm, well dry is normally my wont, but I'll give it a taste. Tell me, where will I be sleeping?"

Lyra paused. "With me, duh. It's not like you haven't done it before."

"Um, well true, but Lyra—"

"Viola!" she shrieked. A small bottle slipped down from the highest shelf, and she quickly cracked it open and began pouring it.

They filled quickly, and were split between the two mares. Lyra was watching her, grinning, with a strange twinkle in her eye. Octavia eyed her over, but took the wine nonetheless. Lyra only smiled again.

Tentatively Octavia took a sip, and when she did, a burst of colorful flavor erupted on her tongue. She hummed in delight, sighing out slowly as she sipped the drink. Her eyes drifted shut and her hoof tilted the glass just a little bit higher. As she finished her sip, she said, "Mmm, Lyra, this is delicious. I love it, where did it come from?"

No response.

"Lyra?"

She peeked an eye open. Lyra was still there, but with rolled up eyes and a quivering lip. A deep hum resonated in her throat, soft, melodic, and very, very creepy. Octavia stared with wide eyes and kicked the glass away. "What did you do to it?"

Lyra snapped back into reality. "Do to what?"

"My drink, you pervert! What did you do?"

She looked around. "Me? I'm not a perv."

"Yes you are!" Octavia thrust her hoof over the island. "I took a sip of my drink and you're over there having some sort of weird… ick!"

Lyra gasped. "Hey! I am not having an ick! I haven't had an ick since, like, third grade or something."

There was a pause, in which Octavia glared into Lyra's soul.

"I'm not sleeping with you."

Lyra looked stricken. "What? No! You have to, it'll be like a sleep over, and we can do fun things, except not pervy things because I just said I'm not a perv, except for the one time—"

"Then why were you over there jiggling in your hooves?"

A pause stilled Lyra. "Uh, because…"

Octavia squinted. "Because why?"

"I'm… tired. Very tired." Lyra cantered around the island, to Octavia, and draped her foreleg over the cellist's neck. Feigning a yawn, she said, "Yep, and you look tired too. Like, really tired. You should get to bed. My bed. You know, because that's where we're sleeping, and stuff."

"Just sleeping," Octavia quipped. "Not, 'and stuff.'"

"Right, that comes later."

"What? Lyra, no—"

"Onward!" She tugged Octavia out of the kitchen and to the stairs.

"But what about the wine?"

"Pfft, I'll make more. Besides, you spilled it and called me a perv. You owe me now." She pushed Octavia up the stairs and down the hall. When Octavia had finally been pushed into the threshold of Lyra's bedroom, Lyra shut the door and grinned.

"Lyra," Octavia fumed. Her face was red enough to glow through the dark. "Hooves. Off. The haunches."

She snorted and grinned, waving a hoof. "That's what they all say. Okay! So, that's my bed, and those are my nightstands, and my drawers are there, to the side, see? And I have a chest here at the end of my bed, but you can't open it. Over there is the window, and—"

"Bed, please?" Octavia asked, stopping Lyra's rant. The mare looked at her, then to the double bed that was the room's centerpiece.

"Huh? Sure, yep, just climb on in. It's really warm and soft, you'll definitely sleep well on it."

Octavia nodded idly and sauntered over to the bed. She crept in, pulled the surprisingly soft sheets over her, and rested her head on the pillow. Just as her mane hit the pillow, and just as she felt Lyra sit down much too close to her, another knock came from below. Octavia's eyes popped open and she glared to the door.

Lyra, on the other hoof, stood and trotted over to it. "You know, I ought to go, um, clean the wine. Don't want it staining my counters, or something. I'm sure you agree, right? You're fancy and stuff."

Eyeing her down, Octavia said, "But what about the pony at the door?"

"W-what door? I don't have a door." She pushed her lips into a smile. The knock came again. "Well, that wine is sure staining quickly! Um, just give me a sec, I'll be right back." Then, she rushed out of the room.

Now, alone, Octavia felt her stomach churn. Lyra really did put something in that wine… she grimaced and rolled onto her hooves. "Well Lyra, secret meetings after toying with my drink? We'll see about that."

Her gaze drifted about the room, until it landed on the lone window, facing out to the town. With a snort, Octavia trotted to it and peered down below. There was just enough light from the moon for her to make out a shape standing in the doorway, waiting for the light of inside to reveal her.

Who was it, Octavia mused. Somepony with another secret package? Probably to deliver more of whatever was slipped into the wine while she was in the shower. And, if that were true, then Octavia should count her minutes. Then, the door opened, spilling light into the streets and illuminating the figure.

It was that Roseluck pony again, white and red in the candlelight. Lyra poked her head out and looked up and down the street, then up to the sky. It was quick, but Octavia managed to duck back before being spotted. After a few seconds passed, she pressed her nose to the window again.

She couldn't hear them, but she could certainly see Lyra making wild hoof movements, and Roseluck standing abashed with a crimson blush on her cheeks.

What was this? A lover's quarrel? It certainly seemed that way. Octavia rubbed her chin and watched, that little spark of inherited Canterlot gossip shooting butterflies through her stomach. It certainly seemed like it was a quarrel; it would make sense, too.

The package was obviously Roseluck returning Lyra's things.

Lyra was obviously lost in thought when the wine was served.

Most importantly, Lyra was excited to have Octavia over because she was lonely. Octavia nodded sympathetically; poor Lyra, suffering as Octavia was. Well, if it could be called suffering.

What was suffering, she wondered. Staying with Lyra, or the dissolution of her relationship with Vinyl? Though, with the new information, Octavia couldn't quite frown at the minty unicorn down below as her muffled words panged against the glass. It definitely sounded like an argument. Definitely.

Soon enough, the words died down, and the door shut, cloaking Roseluck in the dark again. Octavia stared for a second, idly stuck in her own thoughts, when the sound of creaking stairs echoed beneath the door. She jerked, rushing to the bed and leaping in. Butterflies were still soaring in her belly, and a smile crept onto her lips. Now there was common ground between the two mares. Perhaps things would go smoother once this was brought to light.

But Lyra was still the oddest mare. Ever. Without a doubt.

Soon the same mare herself stepped into the room and silently shut the door. She and Octavia locked eyes but did not exchange words; in the dark Octavia swore she could see a frown on her face. A frown on Lyra.

Celestia's plot was now a cube of ice.

Lyra sauntered in and slipped into bed, rolling around a bit, then lying still for a good while. Octavia, however, still wandered in the realms of thought.

She'd bring this up tomorrow. From then, perhaps Lyra could keep her hooves off of Octavia's… everything.

Maybe.

* * *

><p>The sun shone fairly bright this morning, Octavia noted as she ran a brush through her tail. Her ears flicked, stretching slightly as she sat on Lyra's bed. The mare was nowhere to be found; Octavia'd awoken to an empty bed, at eight in the morning. "Sleeping in already," she muttered.<p>

She set the brush down and stood with a yawn, listening to the silence of the house. It wouldn't surprise her if Lyra wasn't even home at all. Shrugging, she looked to the corner of the bedroom, where her suitcase was nestled. She made quick work of its straps, pulling it open and retrieving a little pink bowtie and white collar from the case, and slipping them on her neck.

Then she started down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen to appease her howling stomach. Lo and behold, there was no Lyra here. Only a small sheet of paper on the island, sitting lonely in the sunlight. There was only it, and the smell of something decaying after millions of years of rotting. Octavia had a suspicion that the paper would explain enough.

She slipped it onto her hoof and brought it close to her face, scanning its words.

To Do List:

1. Bake a new cake.

2. Visit Roseluck

3. Buy new cake

4. Take Octavia out on the town

5. Don't forget to-do list at home

Octavia rolled her eyes and set it down again. A quick glance to the trashcan revealed the—and somehow it was burnt—cake. And, of course, it smelled rotten as Tartarus. If either of them would be the cook, it would be Octavia, no questions about it.

But there was this Roseluck pony again. Once more butterflies took hold in her belly. This was definitely a deep issue. Poor Lyra, it wasn't her fault she was eccentric! And a poor cook, too. Dear Celestia that cake smelled just like it looked! She couldn't even look at the burnt icing and inflated dough; it reminded her of Vinyl's ego.

Scrunchy faced and breath held, Octavia evacuated the kitchen into the living room, where again, something new caught her eye. It was a bundle of newspapers, stacked neatly in the corner and tied with a string of twine. Octavia, head cocked and brow arched, trotted over to them. Lyra never read the news. It was surprising she could read at all.

The top paper was the Equestrian Enquirer, with a picture of the Canterlot market street in tatters, swarmed with little spots of black that buzzed through the sky. Octavia bent down to examine the photo; it was familiar. Goop was stuck across the walls of businesses. Ponies were running through the streets. The royal guards were charging forward.

"Tavi! You're awake!" Lyra cheered from behind her. Octavia snapped up and whipped around.

"Yes, I am. Woke up about an hour ago." She looked down at the papers. "Why the papers?"

Lyra craned her neck to see behind Octavia. "Well, I just enjoy the news, reading it, and, you know. Besides, I was there for the invasion, so I read up on the after effects. And stuff. Y'know. But hey, speaking of papers!" She looked behind her and pulled a rolled up paper out of her saddlebags. "You're in them. Like, all of them."

She spat the paper onto the table, and Octavia instantly realized it to be the same one she'd bought from the stallion at the train station. "Yes, I know," she groaned.

"You know, you still haven't told me why you and she broke up. You have to tell me."

Octavia bit her lip as she felt her cheeks light up with a burn. "Well, it's a long story—"

"Tell me over breakfast, you look hungry! C'mon, there's food out there, somewhere, I think. We'll find something. Somewhere." She gripped Octavia's hoof and yanked her out from the house, into the morning, and on to the day.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ball starts writing now, and I will continue from here on out._

They hadn't made it more than a few steps from the house before Lyra spun around to face Octavia, her amber eyes sparkling. "Hey, look! Sugarcube Corner's right there!" She shot her hoof out to indicate the explosively pink, impossible-to-miss bakery at the end of the street. "What a coincidence! That'll be perfect!"

" 'A coincidence'?" Octavia frowned. "Are you quite sure about that?"

"Well it's always there right when I need it. Like, _whenever _I need it! It's weird, you know? Anyway, it doesn't matter, there's breakfast and breakup stories to be had! Come on!"

Octavia thought it best not to respond, instead quickening her pace to keep up with her. She wondered exactly where Lyra got all of that early-morning energy. The brilliance that shone from the unicorn was nearly as bad as the merciless morning sunlight, Octavia noted as she squinted between the two. A close third would be the giant cake-building they were coming up to, which was even more frilly and ridiculous the closer they got to it.

Lyra actually picked up speed as they came to the entrance rather than slowing, and burst through the doors to the bakery at nearly a gallop. As Octavia followed behind, she noted that none of the other ponies in the bakery seemed to even bat an eye at the sudden commotion. Clearly Lyra was not a stranger there.

"What can I get for you?" asked the pink pony at the counter.

"Hmm... double chocolate cupcake, I think!" said Lyra.

"Oooh, good choice!"

"...For breakfast?" asked Tavi, only just then approaching the counter.

Pinkie Pie put both her front hooves on the counter and leaned towards them. "What better way to get the awakey energy you need in the morning than with chocolate?!"

"See? Pinkie Pie gets it!" Lyra said, with a nod.

It really didn't seem like either Lyra nor the pink pony needed any help being awake, but before Octavia could say anything, Lyra had ordered a second one for her. Giving up, she accepted the chocolate-overloaded cupcake.

Octavia turned around to find a spot to sit. The bakery didn't have even a hint of class, from the clientele to the decorations to the plain, bare-topped tables. But it had a sort of feeling to it that wasn't in any Canterlot coffee houses. An amiable hum of ponies enjoying pastries and each other's company rang through Sugarcube Corner, which was nothing like the roomful of ponies trying loudly to out-pretentious each other that Canterlot had, and Octavia found that she didn't mind that too much, just then.

Most of the tables had ponies at them, but in the back there was a table that was free. Octavia took a few steps before realizing there was no pony following her. She looked over to see Lyra back at the counter .

"Oh! And I need a cake!" she said to Pinkie.

"Okey-dokey! Wow, two cakes in two days?"

"I know , right? Actually, I wouldn't mind having a cake every day! That's not exactly why I'm getting another one though—that cake from yesterday... it, uh... we didn't..." Lyra trailed off, her face falling. Her golden eyes glistened. "We didn't get a chance to eat it. I was carrying it, and I—"

Pinkie Pie moved across the counter and put a hoof on Lyra's lips, silencing her. "Don't... don't say anything else." She solemnly sprung back, her face switching into an expression of pure intensity. "This cake will just have to be even better than the first—oh, I know! I'll make like eating two cakes at once! That'll make up for it!" She disappeared into the back in a pink blur. Octavia was struck with a sort of morbid curiosity as to what exactly that rather ominous declaration would produce.

Lyra and Octavia made their way over to the free table. "All right! That's one thing I can cross off my list!" Lyra blinked. She cocked an eyebrow and looked up, patting herself on her side, then brushed a hoof across her flank, and, after a moment's hesitation, ran an exploratory hoof through her mane. Her hooves fell back to the table and she sighed. "Well, at least I can cross them off the back-up list I keep in my brain." Lyra bit into her cupcake, then squealed and put a hoof to her cheek in delight.

Octavia realized she was a little jealous of the way Lyra seemed to so fully immerse herself in whatever was happening at the moment. She wished it was as simple for her. Her gaze fell to a pony in the corner who was reading the accursed newspaper.

"So," Lyra began brightly, licking the last bit of chocolate frosting from the corner of her mouth, "what exactly happened with you and Vinyl?"

Straight to it, then, Octavia thought. She didn't much want to talk about it, but she had to admit that it would be nice to set the record straight, even if it was just for one pony. Even if that pony was Lyra.

"First off, it wasn't anything like what the paper said." She scowled in the direction of the unwitting pony reading the newspaper.

"Oh?" asked Lyra, smiling widely.

"No, it was..." she trailed off for a moment, then chuckled humorlessly. "It wasn't anything that dramatic really. We just started drifting apart. The music was"—she gestured vaguely—"a point of contention. Then it became all about what was popular, how we could market it, our public image—money. Always money. Next to those things, there wasn't much room left for a relationship."

Lyra looked bored. "Right, so—the part with the cello-smashing?"

Octavia rolled her eyes. "The news blew it way out of proportion."

"...No cello-smashing?"

"Uh. I didn't say that." Octavia blushed. "We were under so much pressure, with everyone watching everything we said or did—I snapped. I'm pretty sure it was the same for Vinyl, but I know I was just so frustrated with the music, her, and the bucking news, I felt like I was going to break something. And then I did. I couldn't take it anymore. I left, and I'm not going back until that's all well blown over."

Lyra sprang across the table and wrapped her arms around Octavia. "And you don't have to!" She gave Tavi a light kiss on the nose, and backed away, beaming. "You can stay with me as long as you want!"

Octavia blushed, and despite herself, didn't say anything about the gesture. "Thanks," she said, eventually, and found that she meant it.

"...And if you ever get lonely, you know, we _are_ both sleeping in the same bed, and—"

"Okay, stop right there." And the good moment was gone.

Lyra shrugged. "I'm just saying!"

* * *

><p>As they got back to the house Octavia now called home, Lyra seemed in an even brighter mood than she had been on the way over to the bakery, though Tavi wouldn't have thought it was possible. Lyra hummed as she set the outrageous cake down on the counter and on top of her list she didn't see. She got out a knife and began cutting the cake into slices and readied two plates to receive them.<p>

Octavia sighed. She wouldn't have been keen on eating a ordinary cake at that moment, much less one that had been promised to be "like eating two cakes at once."

"Lyra, you can't be serious. We just had—"

"I am always serious, Tavi! Especially about cake!" Lyra focused intently as she levitated the pieces ever-so-slowly over to the plates. The cross-section revealed what appeared to actually be an entire cake baked around another cake, complete with a nested layer of frosting. Tavi shuddered.

"It's a very serious thing," Lyra continued. "Many a pony's heart has been broken over cakes and the things that happen to cakes when a pony is distracted by less serious things!"

"And I'm sure you're the expert on that."

Lyra took her eyes off the cake to look at Tavi. "You mean on ponies having their heart's broken, being serious about cakes, or being distract—?"

_Splat_

Lyra looked down at the two slices of cake on the ground, up at Octavia, and then back to the slices. "...Don't answer that."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Perhaps I should take charge of the cake from here on out." She moved up to the counter, and as she passed the garbage she caught another glimpse and whiff of the remains of what could almost be said to resemble a cake. "And all future cakes as well, both ones purchased and those made here," she added.

"I think that'll keep a lot of ponies from getting their heart's broken, in the long run," Lyra said. Then she cocked her head to the side. "Or, at least keep one pony from getting her heart broken a lot of times. Well, because of cakes anyway."

Octavia glanced up for a moment. Did she mean something by that, or was that just a Lyra-comment? But Lyra was staring longingly at the lost slices of cake. No, Lyra was just being Lyra. Octavia edged the cake closer to reach it better, and a piece of paper fluttered out from beneath it.

"Oh, it's my list!" said Lyra, catching it in her magic's green glow. "Oops, left that one off my brain-copy," she said as she examined the paper. When she looked up to Octavia, it seemed to Tavi as if her smile was just a bit fixed. "I need to go see—an errand. Yes. I have a very important errand to... go see."

Octavia locked on to Lyra's gaze, holding it fast. "Do you often see errands?" She raised her eyebrow. "Perhaps this is something you should talk to a professional about."

"No, no, I see errands, all the time!"

"I don't think that makes it better. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure anyone could see them, if they tried. The trick is to look very carefully. Not many ponies do, is all," Lyra said, nodding sagely. "I'm usually quite good at it. Sometimes it can take a while, though, so if I'm going to see it on time, I better get going!" She turned and headed for the door.

Octavia stopped with a slice of cake halfway to the plate. "What about the cake?"

Lyra's hooves clacked to a halt and she looked back with clear longing in her eyes. "Do you... do you think you're going to eat it all before I get back? Maybe I should get a third—"

"No, sweet Celestia, no. I'm not even going to touch this if you're not having any." She gratefully put the slice of cake back where she had cut it from. She would be spared from eating even more sweets before noon, which was a very good thing because there was no way her figure could handle it, especially not if this was how it went on an average day with Lyra, as she suspected it was. Octavia briefly wondered where Lyra was putting all that baking, because it certainly wasn't on her flanks the way Octavia knew her own body was in the habit of doing.

At that point, much to her surprise, something large and warm collided with Octavia and the next moment found her sprawled out on the floor. Everything went still following the collision, and she opened her eyes to reveal the two slices of fallen cake not an inch from where her head had ended up. She let out a relieved breath at her small bit of fortune, then glanced up to determine what it was that had thrown her to the ground in the first place.

"Oh, sorry Tavi, I didn't mean to knock you over," said Lyra from on top of her. "It's just... you won't eat any of the cake at all if I'm not with you?" Her golden eyes glowed. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!" She put her hoof to her heart in overwhelming emotion.

Octavia made use of the one less hoof holding her down in order to topple Lyra off of her. She wasn't sure about the stuff with the cake, but Octavia knew for a fact that she was the nicest and most considerate pony there ever was because she pushed Lyra off in the opposite direction of the mess on the floor. There should be some kind of award for ponies as benevolent as her.

Like some kind of acrobat pony, Lyra rolled right to her hooves while Octavia had only just begun picking herself up. "Here, let me help you up," Lyra said, putting her forelegs to Octavia's shoulders. She managed to catch Octavia at a perfect moment of imbalance, however, and sent Octavia flailing back over.

She landed with a smooshing sound.

"Hmm," said Lyra.

"Yes, thank you for that," said Octavia. She could feel the icing squishing into her mane. "Couldn't have done it on my own, to be sure."

"I... I should probably go." Lyra's eyes looked everywhere but at Octavia. "Errands to see, and all that."

"I think that would be best."

* * *

><p>Octavia plodded up the stairs, the pink sugariness stuck to her sharply contrasting with her mood, and she heard the front door open and close as Lyra left. That pony really was a lot to handle.<p>

But Octavia had known that upon coming to Ponyville—it had been a defining part of their past relationship, all that time ago, to be sure. It was just that her memories of what Lyra was like weren't quite as... _tangible _as how Lyra actually was, now that she was staying with her. Like how a pony couldn't quite remember exactly what a headache felt like until they had one again.

When she got to the bathroom, however, what looked back at her was all it took. A stormy face and straight dark hair covered in outrageous pink fluff. They had bought two cakes, Lyra had tried to bake a third, cake had gotten in her hair, and neither of them had yet tasted any cake. Down deep within her, somewhere where it'd been stuffed away and forgotten, something bubbled to the surface. It started as a low chuckle, then grew and grew, until it took over completely. It was an almost foreign act for her, and she was surprised her body still knew how to do it. Octavia laughed like she hadn't in an age. Tears had built up in her eyes by the time she was done with it. Her sides ached as she struggled with the last few chuckles and giggles while she straightened up.

Perhaps she would admit to herself, just for the moment, that she was glad she'd come back to Ponyville to stay with Lyra. Not that she'd ever tell anyone that. But the letter that had started it all, still in her bag, drifted back into her mind. Maybe she'd tell Lyra she was happy she was back, though. Eventually.

And it was true that Lyra was going through the same thing that she herself was, after all. Octavia wandered over to Lyra's bedroom and glanced out the window. That very moment Lyra was going over to talk with that Roseluck about something. Perhaps to clear up any misunderstandings with Roseluck? Octavia caught herself just before running a hoof through her icinged mane, and instead put it to her chin.

Did Lyra think she still had a chance with Roseluck? Octavia's presence really would raise a lot of questions with a pony in that position. That could explain some of the tension between them she witnessed the day before, and the awkwardness talking to Lyra about it. Well, as much as anything would explain awkwardness of Lyra.

She was filled with a niggling curiosity, and couldn't put it out of her mind. Opening the window, Octavia leaned out and glanced in both directions. Far down the street Octavia was sure she could still see a bit of mint green. If she hurried, she might be able follow her. If she happened to overhear the conversation between Lyra and Roseluck, she could very well have her answers.

Octavia was halfway down the stairs before stopping for a moment. Surely that wouldn't be betraying Lyra's trust? But it wasn't as though Lyra was going to tell Octavia if her staying there was jeopardizing Lyra's and Roseluck's chances at getting back together. Listening to them talk about it would be the only way she could find out.

Her mind made up, Octavia took the rest of the stairs at a trot. She'd lose Lyra if she didn't hurry. The door was open and she was nearly outside the house before the fact that her hair was covered in pink hit her like a physical blow. She slammed the door shut, and stood behind it, shifting from one side to the other.

An idea came to her, and she opened the closet beside the door. Lyra had a fascination with odd things, so there was a good chance that—

"Ah ha!" Octavia pulled down a dark purple hat with a huge brim from amongst a collection of hats of varying forms and sizes. It would serve the double duty of covering up the icing as well as concealing her identity. Surely there were many grey earth ponies with dark manes and treble-clef cutie marks—no one would recognize her.

Tossing it on her head, she bolted out the door and down the street. Lyra was out of sight, but she had a rough idea of the direction she was headed. After a short time she came to the town center, where several merchants had stalls set up.

It was a quaint little market, and Octavia found herself glancing at the things they were selling as she walked. There was nothing fancy—produce, more often than not—but a smile crept up on her. One thing she did miss about Ponyville while in Canterlot, on very rare occasions, was the farm-fresh vegetables.

Octavia was so focused on the stalls that she almost walked right between a mint green unicorn and the booth selling roses she was standing in front of. Darting to the side, she got behind a stall selling beets. Peeking out around it, she was pretty sure neither Lyra nor Roseluck had spotted her.

"Can I help you?"

Octavia pushed the outrageous brim of her hat to the side and glanced in surprise at the stallion addressing her. She frowned as she met his gaze.

Seconds passed. Neither pony moved.

Octavia spoke first. "What are you doing just standing there staring like that?" she demanded.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to—it's just—"

Octavia's gaze hardened, and he took a step back, holding up a hoof.

"I—this is my stall?"

"Huh?" Octavia said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm a beet farmer. These... are my beets."

Octavia looked at the beets on the table, then back up at the tan coloured stallion. "Yes, I'm very happy for you. Why are you telling me this?"

The beet farmer blinked. "Because you—"

"Shh!" Octavia turned her ear towards the rose stand. Lyra was leaning close to Roseluck, and whispering intently. Octavia couldn't quite make out what they were saying with the ambient noise of the market. Leaning out from behind the stall as far as she dared, Octavia caught a few words.

"...so I might need more than the usual amount," came Lyra's voice. "It's just that—"

"No, it's okay. I understand," said Roseluck back to her, and put a hoof to Lyra's shoulder. There was a distinct tenderness to the look Roseluck gave Lyra.

The usual amount of what? More of what was in the parcel? Or more of what Lyra tried to put in her drink? Of course, roses would be the obvious answer, but that wouldn't explain the seriousness of their conversation.

Octavia leaned out farther, craning over as far as she could—and the table gave out.

"My beets!"

As Octavia tried to extricate herself from the heap of purple vegetables that she was suddenly underneath, and deal with the hat that had pulled itself down over her eyes, a hoof reached down and helped her up. Octavia tilted back the hat to reveal a mint green unicorn.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" asked Lyra, with a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, um, I..."

"Hello again," said Roseluck coming out from behind her stand. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm well."

"...Is that my hat?" asked Lyra.

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind. I, uh... the sun was very bright."

"It's fine!" Lyra properly smiled. "More than fine—it looks good on you! I didn't know you liked hats, now."

"C-could you move so I can pick up my beets?" asked the beet farmer.

"I suppose if it's a question of whether I like hats or don't, I would say I do—"

"Well help yourself to any of mine anytime you want!"

"Oh, thanks."

"Were... you out shopping for anything in particular?" asked Roseluck, hesitantly.

"No, just looking around."

"Ah," she said.

Lyra inched towards Octavia. "You still smell like frosting." Octavia was nearly offended, but it occurred to her that it was definitely a step up from rosin.

"Yes, I didn't get a chance to wash up—"

"You came straight here without cleaning up?" Lyra raised her eyebrow.

"And to the same place as Lyra, within a few minutes of her, and wearing her hat?" added Roseluck.

Octavia angled a frown at her.

Roseluck glanced to Lyra and then back to Octavia, then tilted her head down. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," said Lyra. "That is a little fishy, Tavi."

"Very fishy," agreed the beet farmer, nodding.

"I... I just...' she glanced between the three ponies looking at her—then did a double take on the third, who she realized she didn't owe an explanation to at all.

Still, it would be pretty flimsy to keep up the lie that it was all just a coincidence.

"All right, I followed you here, Lyra, because I..." She tried to come up with some reason other than why she was actually there. If they found out she wanted to know what was going on between the two of them, they would both clam up and she'd likely never find out. "I thought... maybe I could get a job working here."

"What, really?" asked Lyra.

"Yes," said Octavia.

"Hey," said the beet pony, "you know, I could really use an extra pony to—"

"I was talking to Roseluck."

"Oh."

"You want a job working with Roseluck?" Lyra asked. "Here? At the market? Selling—?"

"Yes, I thought I could get an average, boring, pedestrian, low paying job like a true Ponyvillein. For a change of pace. To pass the time, you know?"

"I think a few adjectives snuck in there that a pony could find a bit offensive," said Roseluck.

"Uh... can I talk to Roseluck about it for a moment?" asked Lyra.

"Oh, yeah, okay."

The two mares took a few steps away.

The beet pony leaned over to Octavia and whispered conspiratorially, "What do you suppose they're saying about you?"

"I don't know!" she hissed back. "If you'd be quiet I might be able to hear!"

"Make things easier? You sure?" Octavia heard Lyra say a bit too loudly. Roseluck hushed Lyra then glanced over, and Octavia quickly inspected a beet.

"I'm Rusty Bucket, by the way," said the beet farmer.

"Charmed."

"Nice to meet you, Charmed."

"That's not—I'm Octavia! I meant I was charmed to—never mind."

"Ah." Then Rusty Bucket's eyes went wide. "Wait, you mean _that _Octavia?" he exclaimed loudly. "From the paper?"

Octavia rubbed her face. "Yes, that Octavia." She hadn't been thinking—she should've stuck with Charmed.

"I didn't recognize you with that hat. And you know, I'd say you smell more like frosting than rosin."

At that moment Lyra and Roseluck came back and Octavia looked up quickly.

"Uh, sure," said Roseluck. "You can have a job here."

"Wonderful," said Octavia, trying to sound as though it were.

"You can start tomorrow. If you're here around eight, that'd work well."

"Sure. See you then." Octavia turned to leave. Perhaps that was karmic justice for trying to eavesdrop on Lyra and Roseluck—but Octavia didn't much care for that interpretation. The curiosity remained latched to her as strong as ever. Maybe, what it was, was just the universe testing her—seeing if she had the determination to find out what was really between those two...

Lyra followed up beside her. "Want to go get lunch? I'm done at the market."

Octavia blinked, and then turned to Lyra. "Oh, all right."

Lyra nudged Octavia, grinning. "I can't believe you want to work! And at a job like that!"

"Yes, I surprised myself, even."

The two mares walked away.

The farmer stood with his entire table of produce on the ground at his hooves.

"But... my beets."


End file.
